Better That Way
by amberdowny
Summary: Even now, as my heart is breaking as Hawkeye gets steadily worse, I love him." includes BJ/Hawkeye slash


Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. If I did, it would've been even slashier than it already was, if that's humanly possible.

A/N: Okay, I'm not quite sure if I know enough to write this fic. I came up with the behavior before knowing the disease. After some research, I THINK what I'm trying to write is some sort of dementia. If I'm way off, feel free to point me in the right direction.

I remember the day I moved in with Hawkeye. It was about twenty years ago, now. Peg had been gone for five years, and Erin mostly for two and the house was just too big and empty for one person. Hawkeye was the one to suggest it, and since Erin was planning to move to the other coast when she finished school, I agreed. There was nothing tying me to Mill Valley anymore, and there had been bad memories trying to cut me loose since Peg's death anyway.

Hawk and I had picked up more or less where we'd left off in Korea, romance-wise. We'd had something there that had ended with the war. We'd remained friends through the years, of course, but out of respect for Peg and Erin and my marriage, Hawkeye had never brought it up, though it was obvious every time we met that he wanted to just grab me and kiss me. And to be honest, I wanted to do the same. I just hid it better. We'd fallen in love quickly in Korea, and the love grew over the years, even without a relationship going on. Restarting something just seemed natural.

Erin accepted it right away. I was glad, and I am glad, of that, because if she hadn't, I would have ended it again. Hawkeye knew that, and accepted it. He told me so, the night after Erin confronted us and assured us it was fine. I thought I couldn't love him more than I did at that moment.

I was wrong, of course. I loved him more each day we were together. Even now, as my heart is breaking as Hawkeye gets steadily worse, I love him.

Speaking of Hawkeye…he's probably awake by now. I should go and check, and help him dress.

"Good morning, Hawkeye," I greet him as I walk into his bedroom. Hawkeye is standing in front of the closet holding a pair of socks, his red bathrobe falling off one shoulder. When we bought it, about a year ago, he refused to get another color. He said he'd lost his other one. In reality, he hadn't owned a red robe since Korea; instead he'd made green his signature color. I had been upset by his confusion, knowing what it might imply. I had hoped that it was simply an effect of aging, but I think I knew even then that it wasn't.

Hawkeye turns at the sound of my voice.

"Good morning, B.J.," he replies. "B.J., I can't find my socks."

"Hawkeye," I say gently, "they're in your hand."

He looks down and stamps his foot impatiently. "Those are socks, B.J. Where are my _glasses_?"

I sigh. "They're on the kitchen table. Have you decided what to wear?"

"Yes," he says. "B.J., why can't I keep my clothes in a pile? I'm really not a slob."

"I know, Hawk. But it's safer if they're in the closet. That way you won't trip over them and get hurt." Just as he had as a child, Hawkeye wants all his clothes on the floor so he didn't have to go into the closet, because of his claustrophobia. He isn't capable of dressing himself properly anymore anyway though, so I left them in the closet. It really is safer that way.

"So what did you want to wear?" I ask Hawkeye. He points to an off-white sweater and black pants. I step into the closet and take them off their hangers, along with a shirt to go under the sweater. "Here Hawk," I say, handing him the pants as I shut the closet door behind me.

Hawkeye shrugs out of his robe, sits on his bed and puts his feet through the pant legs, then stands and pulls the pants up. "They're not…?" he pauses for a minute, and then looks frustrated.

"Backwards?" I suggest.

He nods. "They're not backwards, are they?"

"No, Hawkeye. They're not backwards." I step toward him, and help him into his shirt. I deftly button it up to the second-from-top button, and then help him into his sweater. It has larger buttons than the shirt, and Hawkeye struggles to button it himself before giving up. I quickly button it up halfway.

"B.J.?"

"Yes, Hawk?"

"Can we go for a walk today? To the library?"

I hesitate before replying, "Well, Hawkeye, Erin is coming to visit today with Olivia."

Hawkeye frowns. "Olivia?"

"Olivia is Erin's daughter, Hawkeye, remember?"

Hawkeye frowns some more. "And Erin is your daughter."

"That's right."

"So Olivia is your granddaughter."

"Yes, Hawk. That's right," I say again.

"So we can't go for a walk?" Hawkeye looks so disappointed. I sigh.

"Well…they're not coming until this afternoon. If we leave right after breakfast, we'll have time."

Hawkeye grins. "Good." He hands me his socks and I put them on for him. Hawkeye stands up and walks into the kitchen. "Come on, B.J. Hurry."

I smile sadly. That's Hawkeye, ever impatient. "I'm coming." I sit down at my place, and Hawkeye sits at his. Breakfast is already on the table. I'm always awake before Hawkeye, and I may as well do something productive with the time.

We eat in silence. Hawkeye is trying to hurry, I can tell, but he's not going much faster than usual. I eat more slowly though, so he finishes a little before me. "Take your plate to the sink," I remind Hawkeye. He does so, carefully, and then I do the same.

"Are we leaving now?" Hawkeye asks me.

"Yes, we're leaving now. Put your glasses on, and then go find your shoes, okay?"

Hawkeye picks up his glasses from the table and puts them on, then says, "Okay." He walks into the living room for his shoes.

I sigh deeply, then put on the light jacket hanging on the back of my chair and go into the living room myself for my own shoes.

When I enter, Hawkeye grins at me from the couch. "I found them, B.J."

"Good!" I notice my own shoes aren't where they're supposed to be. "Do you see my shoes, Hawkeye?"

"Oh yeah, I got them for you." He holds them up, and I smile.

"Thank you, Hawkeye." I cross the room and sit beside him on the couch. I slip my shoes on, and then help Hawkeye with his. He can get them on himself, but he can't tie them. I'm a little worried about my own tying ability--my hands have been slightly arthritic for years, but they're definitely getting worse. "Are you ready?" I ask Hawkeye.

He nods. "Yes."

"Okay, let's go," I say. Hawkeye gets up and walks out the door. I follow him out, and catch up with him at the mailbox. "Are you going to get a book at the library?" I ask.

Hawkeye considers. "No, I don't think so," he says finally. "I've been dizzy. I think reading would make it worse."

"You can get a book and I'll read it to you," I offer.

"Maybe," Hawkeye says, after some more consideration.

I sigh to myself. Hawkeye was always a voracious reader. It had annoyed him to no end, and had made me incredibly sad, when he was unable to read well anymore. Now, he doesn't really remember the books he used to read. He'll remember plots occasionally, but he doesn't realize that he hasn't always read children's books.

We walk along slowly. It's September, and the leaves are just beginning to turn colors. It's a gorgeous day, bright and sunny. It really is the perfect day for a walk.

Hawkeye suddenly reaches down and takes my hand. I glance over at him. "You okay?" He takes my hand sometimes when he's afraid or nervous.

"Yes," he says. "I just want to hold your hand."

"Okay," I reply, and then squeeze his hand gently. He squeezes back and grins at me.

We pass a house where woman who looks to be in her eighties is sitting on the porch. She waves at us and calls, "Hello, B.J.! Hello Benjamin!" It's funny. Most people in town who were too old to be friends of Hawkeye's when he was a kid call him Benjamin, even though his own father called him Hawkeye more often than not.

"Hello!" I call back.

"B.J.," Hawkeye begins, "who's Benjamin?"

I close my eyes and sigh. "You are, Hawk. Your name is Benjamin Franklin Pierce, but your nickname is Hawkeye."

"I thought my nickname was Hawk?" Hawkeye sounds extremely confused.

"Well…it is."

"But--"

"Hawkeye," I interrupt, "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay."

"We're almost at the library," I tell him, partly because it's true, partly to change the subject.

Hawkeye brightens immediately. "Good. I think I should get a book. And you should read it to me, so I won't get more dizzy."

"Okay, Hawkeye, I can do that," I reply.

He grins at me.

I squeeze his hand again as the library comes into view. "I love you, Hawk," I say quietly.

"I love you too, B.J.!" he replies happily.

But Hawkeye's love is the innocent love of a child. He still means the world to me, and I to him, but in entirely different ways. I remember the way things used to be. He doesn't. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't better that way.

End


End file.
